I love a parade. No, really. I love a parade. This means, of course, that I’m meant to live in New Orleans, a town that will throw a parade for just about anything. Today was the annual St. Patrick’s Day parade, the Uptown version. Because of course there are parades all over the metro area for a good week before the actual day. Anyway, I didn’t expect to hit this parade today, still worn out as I am by the paradapalooza that was SuperGrasMardiBowl, but I found myself on Rhoda, irresistibly drawn to the show. I snapped this picture of one of the walking clubs milling about as the parade stalled. So these guys carry canes with flowers all over them, and they’ll give you one, for a kiss. Now, I think I’m supposed to find this charming or cute or something, but I have to admit, this year I just found it creepy. This is not my particular community and these are not my traditions and I do not want your scratchy beery face all over mine, no matter how many cheap plastic flowers you’ve got there. Exhale. Of course, once they started throwing presents, I was all over the parade again. There’s something about the mob energy. Let’s use it for good. I swapped Rhoda for the new speedster in the evening to head down to catch the Patois Film Fest poetry night. A wholly different sense of community happening in Warren Easton, and I much, much preferred it. Overall, a lovely day on two bikes in two very different neighborhoods. Nice.